In my post “The Recurring Childhood Memories” I have shown how sociopathic tendencies are present from early life, but those don’t develop into complete sociopathy without triggers.
Triggers can occur in early childhood as the consequence of abuse, but they can also occur later in life.
I’ve had problems at school when I was little, kids hated me and attacked me but that didn’t make me develop full sociopathy. So even though I’ve never had conscience and empathy, I have had a wider specter of emotions.

There were two main triggers that turned me into a sociopath.

One happened at the age of 16.
I was nearly kidnapped by a pedophile. At that time I literally felt my nervous system shut down almost all of my emotions. I tend to describe that as if my brain switched to a 100% analysis machine and I processed dozens of informations in seconds consciously.
This is what how it happened…

I was waiting for a morning bus, for school. It’s been 7:30am or so. I saw a car pull over and I recognized it as my father’s friend. So I casually got in. The moment I closed the door I realized how wrong I was. But I didn’t show any reaction. That was the moment I was talking about. Something in my mind changed abruptly.
And as you’d guess, one can’t just sit in a car and expect silence. A casual chit-chat started, that bastard started asking questions about my family, nothing suspicious at the first glance, but paranoid as I was, I analyzed every word.
He wasn’t from the town, I could conclude that. After I replied to all those questions he got onto more awkward ones. Do I have a boyfriend? (I said no, guessing that if I said I did, it would seem more tempting to a pedophile.)
I was actually profiling the victim that a monster like him would choose and tried my best to make the opposite.
For example, when he asked what kind of student I was, I guessed an exellent student would be fun for him so I said I was just alright.
Parallel with those analyses I was thinking of a way to kill him. There was nothing coming to my mind that would end it quickly enough and not let him fight back as I wouldn’t stand a chance. (He must’ve been around 50 in age.)
I got even more panicked when he didn’t take the turn I demanded. I knew there was just one more turn to take before leaving town and I had about two minutes to talk my way out.
That’s when he started convincing me to go with him to the nearby city for a coffee. I was making excusses how I have way too many skipped classes, how I couldn’t make anymore, how I had to go to improve my grades. Everything possible. And I couldn’t stand the fact I was in control of someone else. The moment he touched my cheek I was enraged. I remembered I had a pen in my bag, and I used the chance to take it out when his phone rang. I saw he rushed to end the conversation, not giving me longer than ten seconds. We continued to chat, and I was thinking of how hard I should swing the pen to smash his throat in only one hit; how bad would it be for me if a car crash would occur because of the stab; would he still be able to harm me in that condition…
Finally, as he reached the final turn I somehow convinced him to take it. And as he pulled over in front of my school he tried taking my number, but I refused to give it going for the door. It was impossible to open it from the inside, and when he opened them for me he said “I almost stole you.” as if it was all a big joke. I got into school and went to the class. I was still cold, shut off from emotions, I wasn’t even thinking about it. I was just regretting for not killing him. And I still regret it, deeply.
But since then I never regained a significant part of the emotional specter, and I continued to actively analyze every word someone spoke and planning every word I said.

The other major trigger was the hospital. At the age of 18. Recently. I don’t even know why I ended up there, but two days before that the neighbor’s dog killed my cat, and I did all I could to save it (my parents were out of town at my grandfather’s).
Then, two days later I got a high fever, 40°C, and ended up in a hospital.
There I spent the half of the first day in peace, and then they’ve put a baby in the same room with me. That little brat wouldn’t cut the crying for four hours! I was going insane, wanting to strangle it so much I’ve barely held it in. It continued throughout the night and I had no sleep. In the morning I had to take infusion. I was fine with that, but I was too paranoid again I feared that the needle will pierce my vein on the other side, that it’ll break, that something will go wrong. And my parents and cousins moving around the infusion bags was frustrating! I was nervous, yelling at them to watch out, and when my father accidentally almost knocked it down I snapped and made them all get out that instant. I wasn’t left alone in peace for one second. Either family or that brat crying and screaming, and while I was on infusion I couldn’t move for two hours and was forced to listen to it. I was losing my mind. I felt as I was steadily going insane.
I started to get agitated by my boyfriend’s presence, by doctors, by my family. And then they came on the third day, telling me they had to go to the funeral and that my grandfather died. I didn’t give a damn about his death, I was angry with them leaving me alone for two days in that hell. I threw a major fit, saying all kinds of cruel things without hesitating. My aunt (who is a social worker) said I was insolent and I yelled I didn’t care one bit, once again throwing them all out along with the nurses. Len (boyfriend) stayed and I sent him off to get me cigarettes even though it was a hospital. Until he got back I was trying to calm down. And I managed for a bit, consoled by the fact I was getting out in two days.
Then, as the doctors had no idea what was wrong with me, my uncle took my blood for the test in another city. It was a test for AIDS, hepatitis and other diseases of that type as it was only acknowledged that my liver was somehow damaged. The results were positive for hepatitis B. I was at shock. I wasn’t ready to die or be sick and isolated for the rest of my life. I wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility.
I even met accusations of taking drugs and being too sexually active. Then they accused Len.
It was on the fifth day, when they got back. I was dismissed from the hospital the day after, but that was not the end. I was already different beyond recognition concerning my psyche.
I was taken to the hospital in the city near by a week later, and both Len and I got tested twice. The results which arrived a week after were negative this time and I was angry with my whole family on the father’s side. My aunt was still talking about my intollerable behavior though.
And when all of the dirt settled down I was incapable of remembering myself before it. In one month I lost my old self completely and I didn’t really notice right away as my self awareness from before that was erased. And when I noticed it was long gone.
I became emotionless, ruthless monster myself. And I loved it. I adored it. I wasn’t feeling bad, I wasn’t worried or frustrated about anything anymore. Just indifferent. Devoid of any feelings at all. Completely careless.

Then I grew bored of a relationship with Len and just dumped him with no remorse.
And before I knew it, I was being told that I might be a sociopath by Hayley.
I looked at every article I could, at every list of traits one would have to fulfil to be proclaimed a sociopath. And I was fitting in with all of them.

But I didn’t take it hard. I was actually conntent to finally know what I was. At least now I’m clear with myself and can decide what to do about it. Well, I’m just being a monster I am. At least I’m happier than before.